


Hiraeth

by ghostphone



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anyways, But Like Weird, Jon has no idea what the fuck is going on and I love that for him, M/M, No beta we die like archival assistants, Selkie AU, it’s my own interpretation of a selkie au, i’ll tag more characters as they come up, just don’t worry about it, literally had to get onto my laptop to fix it because ao3 was buggin, why the fuck is it so hard to find the jmart tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostphone/pseuds/ghostphone
Summary: hiraeth/ˈhirˌīTH/noun(especially in the context of Wales or Welsh culture) deep longing for something, especially one's home.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. I meant to make this have chapters the first time but I'm stupid

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I wasn’t going to start any more fics until I finished the one I’m already working on but I absolutely could not resist after I had the idea

Mum insisted on having her funeral in the town where she grew up. Martin had never been before, but if she ever brought up her childhood, it was a guarantee she would make a remark about how Martin had taken it away from her. It was expensive to live in a seaside town, and having to support a child as an only mother couldn’t have been easy. So they moved. 

The last time he had been here, it had been when he was so young he couldn’t even remember. Shame he was only now being able to see it, now that she was gone.

His relatives were a bit unwelcoming, and it was clear that he wasn’t exactly a part of the family. Mum didn’t get the chance to visit often, especially after she started getting sick, and nobody ever visited her. Martin was less of a nephew, or cousin, and he was more of an... outsider. It wasn’t all bad, though. His relatives didn’t feel comfortable having him around unless it was necessary, but at least he ended up getting a free stay by the beach for the week. You win some you lose some.

He spent a lot of time just contemplating and staring out the window at the ocean. What else was there to do? It was beautiful, but a bit too cold to actually go out there. So when he ran out of things to make himself busy with, he would just stare. 

It was sunset when Martin saw him. When he settled in front of the sliding glass door he noticed a man. Just... sitting in the ocean. What is he doing out there? Martin squinted. He couldn’t see much, with how far away the stranger was, but it looked like he wasn’t wearing much. A good way to get hypothermia. 

Martin sat there staring for a while longer. He kept waiting for the stranger to get up, but he didn’t. The man just sat there, in the waves. He watched for a while longer, reasoning that it wasn’t the same as staring, because he had been looking out this window all day. The stranger was just in the way of his scenic view. 

He was just about to turn away when it happened. The man just... fell backwards. Martin almost chuckled at first. What could be going through somebody's head to just flop back like that? 

The quiet amusement quickly turned to unease. Wasn’t he going to get up? His head was under the water, that couldn’t have been good. Right? 

Martin slid the door open, jogging down to the shore as quickly as the sand would allow. “HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He shouted. 

As expected, the man didn’t reply. Martin waded into the water, trying to get the stranger out of there. What kind of lunatic is this? When finally reaches the submerged stranger, he heaves him out of the water. 

He briefly worries that this is all an overreaction, and that he’s ruining some complete stranger’s weird ocean meditation experience, but this fear is quickly assuaged. He sort of drops the man down in the sand. The guy immediately throws up salt water. 

“What was that?” Martin says, quickly becoming aware of how out of breath he is. “Are you... I mean, is everything...” he isn’t sure what you’re supposed to say in this situation. “what?” He manages.

The stranger stays quiet for an uncomfortably long time. Martin feels it’s best not to press, so he just rolls up his now soaked trouser legs and he waits. Was this some sort of suicide attempt? Was this guy drunk? What the hell was going on?

“I... want to go home.” The man rasps. Martin waits for more, but he says nothing else.

“Do you need me to call you a cab or something?” He attempts. “I can-“

“No.” The stranger interrupts. He looks right at Martin now, and he’s caught strangely off guard. It feels like he’s being looked through, rather than at. “I can’t go home. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” The man gets up and starts walking. “Hold on!” He calls. The pair must look ridiculous. A guy in soaked trousers with bare feet chasing a man wearing nothing but shorts down a freezing shoreline. 

“Stop it!” He yells. The stranger turns, and he feels a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.” He says. “Listen. I’m trying to help. What can I do?”

“I lost it.” The man said, as if Martin were supposed to know what the hell he’s talking about. “I can’t go home.” He repeats. 

“What did you lose, your keys? I can help you look, if you’d-“

“Keys?” The stranger echoes, scrunching up his eyebrows. “Keys.” He sighs. “Not keys.”

“Okay, it’s-“ Martin takes a deep breath. The guy is clearly shaken up, and he doesn’t need attitude to go along with it. “What did you lose?” He asks again.

“Everything?” The guy says, like it should be obvious.

“Okay, well.” He shifts uncomfortably. “How about we get you inside, ok?” He motions for the stranger to follow. “Maybe you can tell me what’s going on when you aren’t... freezing?” The guy shrugs, and follows him. At least that part wasn’t a struggle.

Eventually, Martin got him inside the house. He tried to get the guy to take a bath first, but he had flat out refused, so he settled for getting him dry and clothed. 

Martin didn’t exactly have any clothes that would fit such a skeleton of a guy, but it was better than nothing. He seemed happy enough with a jumper, even though the sleeves got in the way more than anything else, and it fit more like a dress than a shirt.

“So.” He sat down across from the guy. “Let’s try this again. What’s your name?” 

“Name, yes. People have those.” He nods, looking very focused on the table. “I’m people. Give me a moment.” What the fuck? “Jonathan?” He says, like it’s a question. “Yes, Jonathan. That’s my name, what’s your name?” He says. He’s talking strangely, like he’s thinking about every word before he says it. It’s better than before, at least. 

“I’m Martin.” He says, taking a drink of his tea. Across the table, Jonathan watches him. He takes a sip of his own, makes a face, and spits it back into the cup. Martin, who would normally be kind of offended, just laughs. Jonathan sets his cup down, not acknowledging his own previous actions. Once he notices Martin laughing, he also laughs. Martin stops laughing, Jonathan stops laughing. Martin tilts his head, and Jonathan follows. Testing the waters, Martin smiles. Jonathan smiles.

“Okay, what are you doing?” He says, half expecting Jonathan to echo it back at him. 

“Sitting.” He answers. Whatever Jonathan is doing, he doesn’t realize it’s strange. He’ll have to get to that later. 

“Ok, Jon. Can I call you Jon?” Jon nods, and Martin wonders if he’s processed the question. “Ok. So... what’s wrong?”

“A lot. I can’t go home. I’m… lost.” 

“You’re lost? I can help, where are you from? Do you know how you got here?” He feels like he’s almost gotten somewhere with that one.

“Far away. You can’t go.” Jon brings his knees into the jumper. Martin remembers being scolded for that as a kid, his mum always insisting that he was stretching out his clothes. “I can’t go, either. Nowhere to go.” 

“Why can’t you go there?” He prods. 

“Stayed away too long. You can’t do that. Can’t go back now, I tried.” He shrugs. “No use.” Trying to get information out of him was like an Olympic sport. Martin was shooting for at least a bronze metal, though. 

“Can you be a little more specific? I’m having a hard time understanding.” He attempts. Jon is quiet for a moment.

“No.” He says. Martin raises his eyebrows. Jon raises his eyebrows in return. “I can’t tell. Secrets are important. Secrets keep us safe.” 

“Are you joking?” 

“Why would I do that?” He asks. Martin is almost too bewildered to be frustrated. Almost.

“Fine. Fine!” He throws his hands up. Jon raises his hands to mirror him, and one of the sweater sleeves hits him in the face. “You know, it’s hard to stay mad at you.” He says. “Fine. Whatever, it’s your business. One more thing, though. 

“Alright.”

“What do you want?” 

“I...” Jon looks at him for a long time. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Martin gets up, grabbing Jon’s still full mug, which has grown cold. “We’ll figure something out.”


	2. eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is... here. Martin really isn't sure what to make of any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is going somewhere my writing style is just bad

“How do you use this.” Jon stands at the foot of his bed, brandishing a TV remote. Martin glances at the clock. 2:25 AM.

“What the fuck?” He grumbles, not particularly liking being woken up so he can explain to someone how to press a power button.

“Couldn’t sleep. I’m bored.” He explains. “Please help.” He insisted. He guesses that he might as well?

“Alright.” He sits up. “Lead the way, I suppose.”

He considers teaching Jon to use the television, but Martin himself doesn’t really know how to use it since it isn’t his. He settles for the DVD player, because he thinks it’s less likely that Jon will accidentally break it.

He pulls some random movie off of the shelf and puts it on. That’s as much help as Jon is going to get.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“It’s morning.” Jon corrects him.

“Whatever,” Martin says, leaving back down the hall.

Admittedly, he had also had trouble sleeping. Jon was becoming a big source of anxiety for him. He wanted to know why he was here. He had weighed a lot of possible explanations in his head, and had gathered a list of things it could be.

Best case scenario, Jon had gotten amnesia or something, and he was going to get his memories back any moment now. Martin thought it was strange, how he seemed to be perfectly mentally capable, yet he still... had no idea how to use a DVD player.

Worst case, he was harboring a murderer in his house, who had a weird lie, but was convincing nonetheless. It probably wasn’t that one.

There are also aliens. Martin wasn’t sure where on the list to put that one, but it was on the list anyway. Despite his questions, his sleepiness overpowered his curiosity.

~

“Good afternoon.” Jon greeted him. He was still awake, and still watching the exact same movie Martin had put on. Did he not teach him how to put in other movies? Jesus. How did Jon turn the language to Mandarin?

“Do you speak Mandarin?” He asked. “And how many times have you watched that?”

“No, and I don’t know how to fix it. Also, four times.” Jon says, not seeming bothered. “She doesn’t know who her father is, so she invited three different men to her wedding. This seems very inconvenient.”

“It is.” Martin says. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” He says, for some reason. “Though technically, it would be lunch.”

“Smartass.”

~

“Eggs,” Jon says, standing ominously behind Martin while he makes, you guessed it: eggs.

“Yep,” He agrees. “Do you want to... sit down?” He offers. Jon takes a moment to consider the chairs in the room, and settles on the counter next to the stove. He continues to stare intently at the eggs.

He considers trying to start a conversation, but Jon is mesmerized by watching him cook, so he doesn’t bother. As silly as he felt admitting it, he was starting to feel like Jon wasn’t human. It was such an absurd thought, but it... it made sense, didn’t it? He seemed confused when asked something as simple as what his name was, and he doesn’t know how to use a television. He watched Mamma Mia four times instead of sleeping.

He glances back at Jon, who had stopped staring at the pan, and is now staring directly at him. He jumps, startled. Jon echoes him, gasping and looking vaguely surprised.

“Why do you always do that?” Martin asks.

“What do you mean?” Jon says. Martin is not having it this morning, and he presses on anyway.

“You...” he points a finger at Jon, halfway expecting Jon to copy. He doesn’t. “You always copy things I do. Why?”

“I don’t do that.” Jon crosses his arms, looking slightly offended. “Why would I do that?”

“We both know that you do.” He says. Jon takes a moment, searching for what to say next.

“Fine.” He slumps his shoulders. “Sometimes you do things that I don’t understand. I don’t want you to think I’m strange, so I try and... blend in? Sort of?”

“Well it wasn’t working, no offense.” He flips his egg, and it sizzles. “And I already think you’re strange, so you’re out of luck there. What do you mean by ‘things you don’t understand’?”

“You are a very hard person to understand.” Jon accuses. “I’ve been trying to figure it out since I met you.”

“I’m a hard person to understand?” He chuckles. “Seems like an interesting criticism coming from you. To be honest, I’m not sure you’re even human.” He says, trying to play it off like he’s joking. Jon laughs nervously, and doesn’t respond. Ok, yeah. Something was definitely going on here.

~

Trying to pick out clothes for Jon was a difficult task, but at least it took his mind off of things. Jon agreed to wear pants when he figured out the reason he couldn’t go with Martin to the store was that he didn't have any. So here he is, in the checkout at the store, having made some random estimations. Needless to say, he was planning to return most of what he was buying. He briefly wonders why he’s going through so much trouble, but he waves it off. It’s only the nice thing to do. Right?

It was weird, being alone again. He had barely been gone for an hour, but it felt longer. He had almost forgotten how it felt. It seemed like the moment his mum left, some random guy washed up on the beach and almost died. He was getting too used to it, because who is he kidding? He’s going to find out who Jon... is? What he is? Whatever. He’s going to find out where Jon needs to go, and he’s going to get him there.

But it can wait until after the funeral, he’s got bigger things to worry about. Guilt rises in his stomach when he thinks about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be mourning? Shouldn’t he be... I don’t know, crying or something? It felt weird. He misses his mum, he does, it’s just... well, he doesn’t want to think about it right now. At least he has something to do for right now. Even if he’s not sure exactly what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin (handshake emoji) Jon  
> not knowing what the fuck is happening

**Author's Note:**

> What The Fuck Is This Guy Talking About? STAY TUNED!!


End file.
